Conflicts
by Huinesoron
Summary: The Three Hunters are in Rohan. Then Gimli trips over, and blames it on the narrator...


Warning: This story is rather disturbing. Do not read if you wish to keep your sanity.  
  
Conflicts  
  
"Ow."  
  
Gimli pushed himself up from where he had fallen. Just ahead of him, Legolas and Aragorn stopped running and turned. "Come, Master Dwarf," called the Prince of Mirkwood. "Time is precious, and we cannot delay for your clumsiness."  
  
Gimli glared at him. "I would not have tripped by my own actions," he said. "Can you not hear that voice on the air, directing our actions?"  
  
Legolas laughed. "That is the way of the Dwarves, is it not -- blame everything on someone else. Well, Master Dwarf --" he was cut off as Aragorn grabbed his arm.  
  
"Do not question the Dwarf so -- I hear it too, this voice."  
  
Legolas frowned. "What does it say, then?" he inquired.  
  
"Just then," Aragorn replied, "it added 'Legolas frowned' before your words, and 'he inquired' following them." Wait a minute -- what?  
  
Legolas shook his head. "I hear it not," he said, but neither Aragorn nor Gimli heeded him. Instead, they looked thoughtfully at one another.  
  
"It seems, Aragorn," said Gimli from his place on the ground, "that this voice does not believe we can hear it." Well, of course they can't hear it -- there aren't any voices in this 'fic. I should know, I'm writing the thing.  
  
"Writing?" said Aragorn with a frown. "Do you imply what I believe you do -- that you are controlling our world through words?" Ai Valar . . . you *can* hear me, can't you?  
  
"We can," replied Gimli, much to the confusion of Legolas. "Now stop talking about the elf and answer Aragorn's question." Very well, then. Yes, I am controlling you -- or at least, I should be. From this end, you are but words on a page.  
  
"How can this be?" inquired Aragorn. "And how is it that we are aware of this, when we never have been before?" How -- I honestly couldn't say. Maybe you are real, and the 'fic is affecting you in some way.  
  
"Real?" exclaimed Gimli, jumping up. "Of course we are real! Come down here and I'll show you how real we are -- how real my axe is!" All right, all right, calm down. You are real, but I am controlling you. Okay?  
  
"No," said Aragorn, trying to hold Gimli back from attacking a random rock –  
  
"I would not waste my time attacking a rock with an axe!" yelled the dwarf. All right, I *can* hear you, you know. I apologise for that statement. "And well you might," continued the dwarf. "Now let us go, and we shall hear no more of this matter." I'm afraid it's not quite that simple . . .  
  
"Why not?" inquired Aragorn. "You were not interfering with us prior to Gimli's fall, were you?" No, that's true, but – "Then why can you not leave us again?" If you would let me speak?  
  
The pair were silent. Legolas looked over at them. "Has it gone?" he asked. Gimli took a deep breath, but Aragorn cut in before he could reply.  
  
"No, Legolas, it has not. Now if you would be silent until we have finished, it would be a great help." Yes, it would. Now will you listen?  
  
"I will, then," replied Legolas, and Aragorn nodded.  
  
"Then we shall listen, and try to resolve this conflict," he said. Good. Now, here's the thing. If I leave, I don't know what will happen to you -- you may just wink out of existence.  
  
"Your phrasing confuses me," muttered Gimli, "but I gather that you fear your leaving will kill us?" No, not kill, but cause you to stop existing. It wouldn't hurt, but you wouldn't exist.  
  
"So," said Aragorn, "our choices are a life of servitude, with one friend oblivious –" he gestured at Legolas – "or the possibility of ceasing to exist completely. In the latter case, what would happen to the hobbits?" Well, I'm guessing that your entire world would cease to exist, including the hobbits, the Dark Lord, Rohan, everything. But again, I don't –  
  
"Well, then," cut in Gimli, "be off with you! We need you not, and I will be a thrall no longer!" Yeesh -- pushy dwarf. Fine. I hope you die.  
  
. . .  
  
"Is it gone?"  
  
"Yes, Master Elf, I believe it is."  
  
"Good. Then perhaps we could continue? There are Uruk-Hai ahead, if you recall."  
  
"Peace, Legolas. We go now."  
  
. . .  
  
All right, admit it, you need – oh. They've gone. Fine. I guess that's it, then.  
  
hS 


End file.
